12/6/12. If I were an outsider, in-looking at this Author, I’d definitely acknowledge his love of writing. But why doesn’t he finish a book? Telling mySelf I can’t dwell, but I have to. Or nothing’ll be finished. Ever. Last couple nights, yesterday’s eve especially [when I went back into the building to write, after class, for about 30 mins], I’ve had some valuable sheet sessions.. all ink, paper. Tonight again I’m hoping, after this sitting, and a little more of this 2010 Cab Franc from Imagery, one of the wineries by which I stopped on my little PR tour for the winery. Black berry, leather, soft mouth, tenacious tannin, no messy bell pepper pummel. Love it just like this.. a sipping wine, after meal.
Pace at winery today, quite slow. Was nice to get out to road, visit other tasting Rooms. Can’t get Stanford off mind, lately. Sitting at this table with wine on left side of monster’s keyboard, a dictionary of Literary Terms & Theory to right. Interesting symbolic illustration, here proposed– The battle for Artist’s attention, wine vs. Lit. I’ll always choose Literature, writing. ALWAYS. But wine, its ever-multiplying dimensions offer fierce contest for my attention, drive. With my new envelopment in honesty’s emblem, I find wine losing its hold to my passion’s periphery. This more than likely will change, but for now I’m only thinking of my books.. the pages, words they house.
The sun setting this evening, putting quite a few pictures into this new phone. Why does tech always find a way to throw one of its tentacles around my air channel? Want to see more of these falling solars, in all global parts. How to I get to the road? With this book, of course. Can’t print tonight, with Little Kerouac upstairs, asleep. So I’ll do some reading, here on screen. Actually, just did a little. How I captured where I was in life, where I was job-wise at time, hopefully bolstering to novel. “AV Winery,” I can only laugh. Speaking of which, I need to pick up my wine club allocation from them, in a couple days. Maybe Monday.
Can’t get over how incredible this CF is. And the price point, more than gentle. And with my discount atop.. I’m fortunate, I know. My office, sure to have an extensively extensive wine stash. Don’t want to say “cellar.” Hate it when people say that, or brag they have some whatever-thousand bottle cellar in their home, like so many did over the phone, on pretty much every call list, while working at the box. I’ll just have an accommodating stash. Or collection– no, even that sounds braggart. There’ll simply be enough wine, of all shapes, in the bx office. Was in a sharp, sour, serrated mood today, so no new videos. And to be honest, I want to “stream” my life through words, maybe garnished by a couple photos. I have NO aim to be a “vlogger.” Being called a “blogger,” and/or “wine blogger” more than I’m referenced as a Writer bothers me enough. SO, time to remind the wine world–more importantly my READERS–where I am, where I came from, where this penner’s always going 2B.
Already at glass’ end. Also, already at word target, not that I should focus on that. [Tech again pulsating tail] But there was one in mind, number… Need night’s cap. May go by Imagery again next week, get a couple more bottles of this Franc. Need to break out of my varietal comfort corner. And yes, before you ask, I have one. I’ve been more open to Zinfandels lately, with caution. But I’m open, nonetheless. Also to Chardonnay. Just poured night’s last glass. Thinking of the class for which I bought this Lit Terms book. English 300-something. Want to say 301. Taught by Bob Coleman [R.I.P]. He taught me everything I know, pretty much, about Lit analysis, criticism, theory. He one day in class said, in our little probably 12-person seminar: “I’m not any smarter than any one of you, but I am tenacious.” He had an M.A., like me. No doctorate. He didn’t need it. And I don’t think I do, either. I know I don’t. Dad was a commercial airline captain for over 25 years, and he doesn’t hold Bachelors. Reminding Self again tonight to trust Self, know I’m doing the right thing for my writing, and be sure that before too long, I’ll be writing for my living.
Glass tilt …